Dickslugs Ala Orc
ElridAlm (Twitter/AO3)
Desc: Hey guys, remember that little story I wrote way back when about dicks and slugs and a little bit of CBT? (The Nurses)
Well, a certain degenerate artist noticed this, and really fucking liked it! Enough that he commissioned me to write a little fic of his orc getting all loaded up with the stuff.
Because really, aren’t orcs just nasty like that?
So here you guys go, technically what’s been my first commissioned piece!
And ofc, thanks to @r4drawings for commissioning this!
Half-Orcs with dicks. Dick-slugs. Fantasy.
Chapter 1
As the doors to the tavern swung open, a shadowed group of heroically proportioned individuals walked in. The sight of them immediately snuffed out all hints of sound from the otherwise bustling inn, every patron, whether human or dwarf, drunk or soon-to-be, settled into a half-baited breath, eyes expectantly fixated on the new arrivals, breathless anticipation lingering through the air like a beer fumes.
The patrons of the tavern knew the newcomers, they were adventurers for hire, having arrived to the town proper a week before. The settlement had been dealing with a stray dragon, which resided in a nearby swamp, it had been destroying farms and killing cattle, and travellers had been frightened to even visit the area anymore. The adventurers had been hired to kill it, but nobody in the town could even guess whether it could be done.
The shadowed individuals said nothing; their faces gave no hint as to their emotions, opting instead to linger dramatically in the doorway. Carefully, they all stepped to the side of the entry. At the back of their little group stood a woman, taller than her compatriots, her deep green skin making her an oddity among oddities, least of all for the fact that she was entirely topless: her bare breasts heaving in the evening air, her skin slick with sweat, mud, and… something else.
The woman stepped to the forefront of the group, in her arms, a tightly wrapped package, dripping with a strange and foul-smelling liquid, staining the floor, not dissimilar in color or texture to that which patterned her skin. Her expression was neutral, her gaze surveying the room, taking in each and every last pair of eyes, making sure they were properly paying attention to her.
Her stoicism shattered, and the woman broke into a smile. Triumphantly, she thrust the package into the air, the tight wrappings unraveling to reveal its contents, and indeed, the message she and her group had arrived to deliver. The head of a dragon, severed and dripping with fumes, heavily damage and scarred from what had undoubtedly been a battle of epic proportions.
Jaws dropped, stunned expressions all around the room. The woman held the head aloft with a single muscled arm, pounding her chest with the other. Her grin was infectious, bright and genuine, only mildly diminished by the rows of sharp orcish teeth that comprised it. She let out a powerful roar.
‘’We did it!’’ she announced to the patrons in a deep and booming voice. The tavern shook, the windows rattling in their hinges. Lanterns swayed from the sheer force of the shout, the kind that only a barbarian could produce.
But it was a force that could certainly be matched by a room full of drunkards. The tavern erupted into a thunderous and jubilant applause, shaking the foundations of the building to its very core. Most clapped, several others whistled and jeered, quite a few pot-bellied farmers howling at the top of their lungs. At the end of the tavern, behind a beer and wine stained counter, a diminutive bearded man merely closed his eyes, letting loose a sigh of relief, he felt a weight lifted from his shoulders, one which he had been sure would follow him for the rest of his life.
‘’Thank the gods…’’ the diminutive man, a dwarf, Bertrand, whispered to himself. ‘’Our town is saved…’’
The entire presentation had undeniably been a glorified little performance put on by the newcomers, but they were given the courtesy, and far more than that. With their announcement, the smiling heroes poured into the bar with relaxed ease, grinning and nodding as half the occupants practically swarmed them, shaking their hands, patting their backs, thanking them for their service. The half-orc, most of all, no doubt for her place in having been the one to announce the death of the dragon which had terrorized the town for months, tankards were thrust to her, which she heartily swallowed down with minimal effort, careless sprays of beer and mead splashing against her exposed breasts, leaving them slick and glistening in the lantern-light.
The town had been saved, after all. Now was the time to celebrate! The jubilant chorus of gleeful praises lasted for hours, with nigh every voice joining to thank and glorify the heroes that had slain the mighty swamp dragon. The sounds rang for miles, and soon, even what few townspeople had not found themselves drinking that night, came to visit, amazed and eager to join in when they heard the news. The tavernkeep, Bertrand, found himself working to the point of exhaustion. Serving drinks and food throughout the night, barking orders at the somehow even smaller Halfling and the nervous clumsy elf that served as his staff. He would undoubtedly have a very profitable venture that night, profits that would, now thanks to the adventurers, serve the tavern for many years to come.
Yet, every celebration inevitably ended, and soon enough, the crowd began to fade and diminish. Bertrand had generously offered the adventurers the best seats in his tavern, a private and curtain drawn booth normally reserved for only the finest of nobility, or those with the purses to match. Eventually, nearly every last one of the adventurers had, in some shape or form, left for their rooms, the majority with a rather well endowed giggling farm-girl in hand, several with two.
And that one guy, he left with the blacksmith’s son. Lot of muscles on the kid, nobody would judge.
Finally, all that was left was the orc barbarian herself, Ushka. Sitting alone at the massive rounded table within her now private booth, enjoying the comfort of the cotton-padded bench she sat on. The table was practically overflowing with tankards, some empty, but most still full, each downed in a single swing as the now generously drunk green-skin worked her way through them. Courtesy of Bertrand, and all on the house, of course, orcs like her could certainly drink, but he had earned enough in profits that night that a few kegs of free mead would scarcely be noticed. Besides, after a celebration like that, he was going to have to restock either way.
‘’Mmmph… fucking fine schtuff…~’’ the orcish blooded woman said to herself, slamming the empty tankard down with such force, it knocked several off the table, quite a few of them full. ‘’Ooopsh…’’
Oh well, she would just have to order some more from Bertrand when he returned. It was late, and the Dwarf had long since retired, leaving her alone with her many drinks. Not the most practical of decisions, but she had earned it, what with saving the town and all.
Ushka let out a huff, her foul-smelling breath escaping her mouth, filtering into the air where it mingled with the already potent reek of booze, sweat, and vomit. The tavern was going to need a good air filtering, for sure. Still, she had her beer, and she also had… well, she had her beer! That was all any real orc needed, half-blood or otherwise. Idly, her spare hand slipped off the table, roughly and rather crudely scratching at her groin, and the growing lump beneath.
Like most normal people (though she was anything but normal), Ushka had been born with a perfectly functional set of female genitals. Unfortunately, the life of an adventurer had consequences, and somewhere along the line, a massive floppy green cock had been added to the mix. In her drunken stupor, Ushka could scarcely even remember how she had actually obtained it in the first place, probably some magical bullshit, that’s what usually happened.
Still, there was no denying the cock was seriously bugging her! All the scratching served to do was urge it to grow beneath her stained loincloth, the prominent bulge of her orc-dick becoming more and more apparent by the second, the incessant itching only pushing her further into annoyance.
‘’Mmmph… Ushka’s dick is fucking itching…’’ she grunted, biting on her lip as she flipped the brown stained fabric aside, exposing her dick to the air.
To anyone else, the problem would have been immediately apparent. From a veritable jungle of wire-thick pubic hair, a massive pair of cantaloupe-sized balls churned and throbbed, pulsing with pent-up strain. From between them, a thick, heavy, orc-like shaft rose into the air, rock hard, slick with sweat and swamp-water, giving off musk so thick, it misted the air, lingering against the table.
In the morning, someone was going to wonder who had been breeding horses in the private booth.
Yet, most bizarre of all, the head of her cock looked distinctly wrong. Swollen and darkened, it took on a shape and color completely unlike the rest of her dick. Thick, pestilent, disgusting looking bumps made up the majority of her swollen cock-head, and the pulsing, enflamed, nearly-brown flesh leaked a copiously foul-smelling brown liquid, far unlike what any normal dick should rightly have produced.
And it itched like mad. Like, really fucking badly.
Her mead-soaked brain fumed in irritation, Ushka’s clumsy hand smacking against the swollen cock-head in annoyance. Come to think of it, she was preeeeetty sure it hadn’t always been like that, but in her alcohol-drenched stupor, she couldn’t really be certain either way. All she knew was, when they had been searching for that stupid dragon, the party had been forced to wade through a fairly pestilent swamp to find its cove. Most of them had enough common sense to wear proper fucking clothes for the endeavor, but Ushka had insisted on her usual garb.
‘’Ushka can handle a bit of dirty water’’ she had laughed, diving into the swamp headfirst.
But, somewhere along the way, she had felt a strange pinch in her groin, like something had bitten her. At the time, half-submerged in water, she had barely noticed, and a cursory check had made everything seem fine. But not too long after that, it had started itching like mad. ‘Course, with the dragon and everything else, there hadn’t been much time to deal with it. But now that Ushka was finally by herself, she realized just how bad it had gotten.
‘’Calm down shtupid Ushka dick…’’ she grunted, smacking her dick again. Letting out a low guttural groan as her cock throbbed in appreciation. Orc dicks were made of sterner stuff, and all she was really doing was giving it a clumsy handjob, nothing more. She grumbled, taking a swing of booze, throwing the empty mug away where it shattered against the wall. Bertrand had made a mistake in giving her anything but metal tankards.
‘’Fiiiine…’’ she grumbled to herself. With a powerful kick, she pushed the table to the side, coaxing a cacophony of clattering metal and glass mugs dropping to the floor from the force of the blow. She didn’t care; she just needed room, room to move. Ushka let her body slide down the bench, her curving inward as her feet firmly planted themselves into the wooden grain floor, stressing the wood.
She wrapped a firm hand around her cock, giving it a few inelegant pumps. If all she needed to do was jack off, that was feasible. Maybe then her stupid fucking dick would stop itching like that. Her shaft pulsed in her grip, the slickness of her own sweat, the lingering swamp water along with it, giving her an easy grip, removing all friction as the orcess settled into a rhythmic if unrefined motion. Her breathing grew shallow, her heavy exposed tits rising and sinking with a ponderous grace, every deep lungful of air she took pushing them into full prominence.
Yet, it only made it worse. Her obscene dickhead sputtered and spat out more of that vile brown fluid, it dripped into her hands, getting rubbed into her skin, tingling lightly on contact. Had her dick always felt this leathery? Probably. But the more she pumped away at it, the more frustrated she became, her motions growing faster, more impatient and rough, pounding away at her dick as the itching only continued.
She growled at herself, baring her teeth. Her spare hand rose to the swollen cockhead, peeling the thick inflamed skin apart. Fuuuuuck. A shudder ran down her spine, as a burst of pleasure caught her off-guard. Why the fuck was it so sensitive, she hadn’t expected that!
Exposing her dick only made matters worst, a powerful burst of contained odor burst free, the orcess catching a whiff of it, coughing, shaking her head in animalistic annoyance as she let loose a low snarl. Damn, it smelled fucking bad, and she was used to the odor of the tavern. Regardless, the motion seemed to have helped, if a little, and a single green finger began wriggling and tugging at the loose flesh, the pressure growing all the more insistent as more and more of those shudders ran through her body, the itching fading away the harder the rubbed. Her teeth glinted in the dim light, the corner of her mouth twisting into a satisfied grin as she finally found herself making some form of progress.
‘’Mmmph… fuck… Ushka… feelsh good…’’ she gasped.
She added more pressure, and to her surprise, she felt her finger sink in with little resistance. Her eyes opening wide in shock as the sheer sensation of fingering her own cock sent Goosebumps across her skin.
‘’Fuuuuuuck…’’ she whimpered with slurred alcohol-reeking breath, pushing her finger deeper. When had she even gotten this loose? Could cocks even BE loose? She didn’t know, and the more she pushed, jerking her cock around her finger, feeling the walls of her urethra close in, the less she cared. Her balls churned and rumbled beneath her dick, and more of that brown fluid slipped out, now heavily tainted by her own jizz.
Her jaw fell slack, her tongue hanging loose as she pumped away at her cock-hole, her body starting to shift and squirm, her breathing growing all the more raspy and inconsistent, weak gasps of air, only getting so much more erratic as she pushed herself deeper and deeper. She could swear there was something else in there too, beneath her finger, she could feel a wriggling, a slimy squirming sensation that only got pushed lower and lower down her cock the more she fit her finger into it. She was almost at her knuckle, and her heavy nuts tensed as that inevitable break of orgasmic release drew ever closer.
With a cry of delight, she tore her finger out of her hole, leaving it gaped and twitching, both of her hands wrapping themselves around her thick orcish cock as she pumped with abandon. She could feel her heartbeat, and every pump of her hands only served to make it faster, harder. Fuck, she was on the edge, she could feel it, she was going to cuuuuuum!
Her body shuddered against the bench, her tongue lolling idiotically, pins and needles throughout every limb, as her thick dick spurted in release.
‘’Guuuush, guuush, cuuush, shluuush…’’
It vomited out deeply discolored jizz, spurt after spurt, staining the edge of the table and a good portion of the top, several thick loads splashing into the tankards at the edge, sending droplets of beer-foam spraying across the booth. She had never released that hard, or that thickly; the stuff was practically glue-like in it’s consistency, hanging off the edge with ease, oozing down onto the floor in a slow and obscene manner.
Ushka let out a sigh of relief, that incessant itching having mostly faded away. She sat back, dragging her forearm across her sweat-drenched forehead. Fuck, that was intense. ‘’Mmmph… Ushka feelsh better now…’’ she grinned, and reached out for a jizz-stained tankard. Chugging it down without a thought, she grimaced at the strange taste, pulling it away for inspection.
‘’Weird beer…’’ she grumbled, twitching the thing back and forth, failing to notice the fairly obvious stain on the rim. Eh, she shrugged. It tasted pretty good, actually. Kind of better than the normal stuff, even. She gulped it down without sparing it any further consideration, and as she was about to slam it back, she noticed something.
There, on the table, in a puddle of brown-stained jizz, were a few strange bugs. Slugs, massive and writhing, they twisted around in the puddle, squirming, trying to get away to somewhere hot and wet as most slugs enjoyed.
‘’Ugh… gross…’’ with a disgusted look on her face, Ushka slammed her tankard down, crushing the slugs in one fell swoop, a grimy brown liquid oozing out from beneath the metal cup. It was a good thing Bertrand had some fucking good beer, because this place needed some SERIOUS cleaning.
‘’Ugh… filthy tavern…’’ she growled, failing to notice the squirming sensation in her balls. Resuming her drinking, certain to stay there until morning.
Who needed sleep when you had beer, anyways?